Instability
by Sombereyes
Summary: Insanity, it was at the heart of our desire. Desire for killing, and for love.
A/N: Don't ask why in the heck I wrote this, because I really have no idea. It just struck me, and I ran with it. Takes place far into the future.

 ** _WARNING:_** Features assassination, slight blood play, and romance between two men. You have been warned.

 **Instability**

Assassination.

At first, it was just an assignment given to me as a student.

Then, it was an answer for the life I couldn't control – rehab for my methodical madness.

After that, it became a way of life. A job, nothing more. Each drop of crimson worth more money than I knew what to do with.

Somewhere along the line, it transformed from just a job, to something of passion. Killing, that just made sense. It was simply the way things were. The passion...? Well, that was something else. Someone else – who cut through the fabricated line of everything I'd always known with overconfidence. That cocky smirk of his was a balm for my every stoical reason for doing my job.

The same man now followed me in every path I took in my life. Every killing, every move I made, mirroring them with his own. It was the heat to my ice. The fury to my calm. The sneer to my grin. We were two sides of the same coin, a mirror of each other.

Even sex became part of the routine we set for ourselves, even if that wasn't normal either, not even for assassins. Even if, deep down, we knew that this tendency, what we were doing, and where we were doing it, was unhealthy to say the least.

That set a deeper fire in our blood, a heat that he would let burn, until it would eventually consume us. When we let our guard down just enough to be targets, bullseye's on our backs, painted with the blood of our victims.

Insanity, it was at the heart of our desire. Desire for killing, and for love.

"You really had me worried, you know?"

I knew, but it wasn't like I could say anything. I could only nod my head, feeling his fingers at the edges of my closed eyes, the silk in my mouth damp as my teeth nipped holes in the fabric.

"Tell me that you know."

I forced a sound from my throat, yielding and honest. I leaned into him, his firm chest the one place that was solid and unwavering no matter how many times I fell against him.

"That's good. I want you to know, Nagisa. That knife of yours, it can't always save you."

Well, no shit. That's why I have him with me, because two of us have always been better than one.

"My, my, my. This is a thorny situation you're in, isn't it? Think you can break free? Do you want my help?"

I roll my eyes from behind closed lids. We are assassins after all. I could break out of this, but what fun would that be? Twisting my head away from him, forcing his hand to slip free, I finally glare at him.

"Oh, now don't be mad. This could be fun too."

That sharp gaze of his meeting mine, I know this is what he wants. It's what gets a rise out of him. We've been doing this for years. For him, it never gets old.

I smell blood, our mark is dead on the floor, and that's mission complete. Karma wants to play? I'm alright with that. So be it. I make another agitated sound, frustrated as I can make it. This is a game we've played too many times, I know all the rules. I expose my neck to him, my bound hands twisting their way around the rope he's got me in.

I'm the one in charge here, the little gentle lamb that's really a wolf. It's time he remembers that. Perfect execution, in everything. The knife I have between my wrists is just enough leverage for my binds to snap. My arms are sore, but even that feeling comes with the success of a good kill.

Now I can untie this silk cloth that Karma thought was funny to stick into my mouth. What is his joy with gagging people? I'll never know.

"Don't do that with this," I warned, clutching his length through the soft leather of his pants. "I'll bite." I can feel the heat there. Commando again, not a surprise. Already hard too, the thrill of the kill, he's far too amused.

That's fine with me too.

"Suck me off already."

The demand is made, broken glass at the back of my neck. His favorite way to do a murder, it's moist, likely bloodied only moments before.

Just thinking about that makes me grin. I kneel before him, taking the zipper of his pants between my fingers. Would someone be able to kill us on this night? I didn't know, but as I took his hard length into my mouth, I realized, even if they did, I wouldn't have cared.

Hell, it was the way I wanted to die, if I really had to go.


End file.
